


Taste of Death

by voxofthevoid



Series: Thicker than Blood [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe- Vampires, Biting, Bloodplay, Bottom!Hannibal, Bottom!Will, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hannigram - Freeform, M/M, Murder, Oops, Oral Sex, Possessiveness, Top!Will, Topping from the Bottom, Vampire!Will, What Have I Done, a shocking lack of cannibalism, but that’s only because they’re not humans, erotic blood-drinking, fledgling vampire!Hannibal, inappropriate boners, more tags will be added, no Will didn’t ask permission before changing Hannibal, nonconsensual turning, obsessive ‘love’, people are always food, people are food, top!Hannibal, vampire-vampire relationship, vampires don’t sparkle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-02-25 00:30:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2601980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxofthevoid/pseuds/voxofthevoid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Particular Hungers. </p><p>Hannibal wakes and is far from pleased to find that he’s no longer human.   </p><p> <br/><i> He shifts so that he's looming over Hannibal rather than lying atop him and brings one of his wrists to his mouth, hastily ripping a ragged gash in the flesh with razor sharp teeth while keeping his eyes locked on the man beneath him. Hannibal's entire face changes as the scent of blood saturates the air, eyes glowing brighter and lips parting to expose newly formed fangs.    </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>Will merely laughs, thrusting his sliced wrist at Hannibal before he can attack him in a thirst-induced frenzy. </i></p><p> </p><p>  <i>A wet, hot mouth closes in around the wound, tongue probing and teeth tearing, and Will moans out loud as an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain shoots through his body.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. you belong to me

**Author's Note:**

> Did I imagine when I first started writing hannigram that I would end up writing about vampire!Will taking advantage of a very dazed Hannibal? No, I most certainly did not. 
> 
> So… the consent in this chapter is rather dubious. Because Hannibal is only half in his mind. And pretty ‘sensitive’. Basically, Will just does what he wants and Hannibal is only half-interested in stopping him.

There is a thin sheen of sweat glistening on Hannibal's exposed skin, lending him an ethereal air in the pale moonlight. He is stretched out on the bed, naked from the waist up, occasionally writhing and turning against the cerulean sheets in a way that makes Will want to forget all morsels of decency and fuck him then and there.

He won't though, because Hannibal is in no state for sex, not when his entire body is shifting, surrendering to the toxic blood overtaking his system. He's not even completely conscious, half lost in his own mind and half lost to the consuming throes of his transformation.

Besides, it's Will's own fault for climbing into bed with a transitioning human. It's certainly not something he did with Abigail. In fact, he quite clearly remembers dumping her trembling body in her father's messy shed and reluctantly standing guard for the twelve hours it took for her to awaken.

But here is, wrapped snugly around his Hannibal, the man's flushed feverish skin pressed delightfully against Will's own cool flesh.

There's still over seven hours to go before Hannibal will properly wake with a body trapped in an illusion of life and a burning throat.

Suddenly, Hannibal jerks within the confines of Will's arms, his body arching off the bed in an enticing curve, the motion pulling a low, rumbling growl from deep within Will's chest. He ignores his growing arousal in favor of burying his head in the crook of the human's neck, taking the torn but rapidly healing flesh on the side of his neck between his teeth and biting, not hard enough to break skin, simply enough for the other to feel it.

The effect is almost immediate and Hannibal slumps back down on the bed with a guttural moan, fingers twisting mindlessly in the silk bedding.

"Ssh. It's fine. I've got you," Will breathes, trailing his mouth down Hannibal's flushed skin, lips parted to press the sharp points of his fangs down on the soft surface.

Hannibal whimpers, eyes screwed shut as faint tremors start coursing through him, his glistening body trembling beautifully in Will’s hold.

"I've got you."

_You're mine._

*

When Hannibal comes to the first time, it's quick and quiet, lacking the dramatics of his transition. One moment his eyes are closed and restless and the next, they're open and he's awake though not entirely aware.  Will knows it’s not over yet, that this is just a temporary awakening and that Hannibal will slip back under once he’s sated.

Will smiles as bright red eyes come to rest on him, glazed with confusion and bloodlust. There's a flicker of recognition somewhere in their depths but Hannibal shows no outward reaction to Will and remains utterly still, not even breathing now that he doesn't need to.   

He shifts so that he's looming over Hannibal rather than lying atop him and brings one of his wrists to his mouth, hastily ripping a ragged gash in the flesh with razor sharp teeth while keeping his eyes locked on the man beneath him. Hannibal's entire face changes as the scent of blood saturates the air, eyes glowing brighter and lips parting to expose newly formed fangs.   

Will merely laughs, thrusting his sliced wrist at Hannibal before he can attack him in a thirst-induced frenzy.

A wet, hot mouth closes in around the wound, tongue probing and teeth tearing, and Will moans out loud as an exquisite mix of pleasure and pain shoots through his body.

Vampire saliva does not affect other vampires the way it does humans. There are no overwhelming waves of ecstasy to supersede the pain, but the pain itself is the greatest pleasure to them, a sign of the most intimate form of _connection._

Hannibal drinks with blind enthusiasm, utterly oblivious to everything but the life giving liquid flooding his veins as he sucks hard at Will's offering, gripping his hand with both of his.

Will's cock hardens with dizzying speed; the sight and feel of Hannibal like _this_ \- stripped of his sensual grace and reduced to something so wild- feeding his arousal. He can feel Hannibal's erection pressing against his thigh through the thin material of their pants though the man himself is too lost in his bloodlust to even notice.

Will waits until he's certain Hannibal has had enough to stabilize him until they have the opportunity to hunt properly before wrenching his hand away, both of them groaning in tandem at the loss. Hannibal starts as if to lunge for the wrist but Will drives forward to trap him in a vicious kiss, licking the blood from his mouth until he can taste the numbness of Hannibal on his tongue.

When he pulls back, it is to find a pair of glowing eyes watching him with blatant confusion, Hannibal wearing a rare expression of honest befuddlement.

"Will?" He murmurs, sounding almost childlike in his wonder, "What-"

Will cuts him off with another kiss, this one gentler than the last, deep and lingering. Hannibal's mouth welcomes him with a nearly helpless moan, the fledgling's trembling hands rising to grip Will's naked back in a desperate grip.

"I did say I was going to keep you," Will breathes against the other’s lips and doesn't give him a chance to respond before he leans back to properly straddle the man, pressing their still-hard lengths together.

Hannibal's entire body shudders violently at the contact, eyes rolling to the back of his head, fingers desperately gripping the sheets. And Will just watches him with hooded eyes, amused at the disproportionate intensity of his reaction.

 _Hypersensitivity._ A side effect of the change. The result of the sudden shift from the impossibly dull human senses to the finely honed ones of a vampire. It's especially worse when it comes to _touch_.

For the next few hours at least, Hannibal will _feel_ with scathing intensity.

And if Will were a kind person- like Molly was- he would let Hannibal rest undisturbed for the remainder of his time in transition and allow him a chance to orient himself to his new body and its impulses.

Will is most certainly not kind.

He grinds down harder, insistently rubbing their clothed lengths together and Hannibal parts his lips in a strangled cry, one hand flying up to presumably pull Will off him. His aim is mismatched and clumsy in his state and Will catches the wrist with a hand, effortlessly pinning it to the bed. He does, however, stop moving, taking a moment to merely observe Hannibal. He's a quivering, disheveled mess and Will wants to keep him like this always.

He lifts off Hannibal and swiftly proceeds to tear away both their pants, the only articles of clothing on their bodies, causing the other’s eyes widen in something that might be shock or desire.

"Will, wait-"

He quiets Hannibal with a kiss, quick and brutal, tongue sliding in to caress his new fangs and wrenching a groan from him. Will savors the way Hannibal twists and keens beneath him as he trails harsh bites and soft kisses down the firm, hand length of his body. His skin is different, colder, and less alive than it was but no less fascinating for it.

And despite his apparent reluctance, his cock is fully hard, lying flushed and taut against his stomach. Will swipes his tongue against the slit, grinning at Hannibal’s answering mewl.

"Will, I can't. Too much. Please-," Hannibal hisses from between clenched teeth, voice thick with arousal in spite of his demand.

Will glances up at him from where his face is hovering over Hannibal's groin and smirks, slow and feral.

“Then stop me,” he whispers, knowing full well that Hannibal will do no such thing.

And then Will swallows him to the root in one, smooth motion.

Hannibal's reaction is immediate, body arching off the bed as his hands dig in like claws into Will's shoulders. He can feel his skin break and heal just as fast under sharp nails and he growls at the delicious sensations, drawing another moan from his newborn mate.

He will never be able to have Hannibal in so vulnerable a state ever again, not after he fully settles into the change. And he's certainly not _wasting_ this opportunity.

Will drags his lips along the length of Hannibal's cock, scraping his teeth ever so lightly along the underside and the other _screams_ , a rough, guttural sound that reverberates off the walls and feeds Will's fervor.

He mercilessly works his mouth around Hannibal, ignoring the helpless whimpers and half-hearted pleas of 'God, Will, please' from the writhing man pinned to the bed. And Will is more than a little amused by how Hannibal doesn't truly resist even though he'd be able to throw Will off easily if he were to try.

Wound up tight and overly sensitive, Hannibal doesn't take long to come, exploding in Will's mouth with a savage thrust of his hips and a raw, unfettered scream.

He tastes of nothing as Will swallows around the spent shaft in his mouth, using his tongue to gather every drop of his mate’s essence. Hannibal jerks, squirming at the excessive stimulation and stifling sounds that Will wants to drag into the open with his teeth.

Reluctantly, he releases Hannibal's cock and crawls up the man's body, licking and nuzzling any patch of skin that strikes his fancy. Hannibal doesn't try to stop him though he does groan at the overload of sensations from where's he's lying limp against the satiny sheets.

Hannibal's eyes are half-closed and hazy, wrung out from Will's assault on him while in such a susceptible condition. If Will were a better man, he'd feel at least a modicum of guilt for what he’s done.

But he isn't and all he feels is smug satisfaction.

Will rubs his cheek against Hannibal's affectionately; leaning away to press his lips to the other's closed lids.

"Drift for a while, mon cher. I'll be here when you wake up."

Even Will isn't sure whether that's a promise or a threat.

Perhaps both.


	2. see the world through a crimson glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal wakes up, properly and without being molested. 
> 
>  
> 
> _"You're awake. Properly this time, I hope."_
> 
> _Hannibal isn't even aware of the fact that he's moved until he has Will pinned beneath him, one hand wrapped tight around the slender column of his throat._
> 
>   _Will grins up at him, seemingly unconcerned that his throat is being crushed. Hannibal applies more pressure, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, teeth bared in a feral snarl. That draws a laugh out of the other man, a low, rough sound that inexplicably rouses all of Hannibal's survival instincts. Will does not look even vaguely threatening, lips tilted in a wide smile, eyes bright with amusement and dark hair splayed on the deep blue fabric. He looks unfeasibly beautiful, ethereal and fey-like. Enticing._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Say ‘Hello’ to a lucid Hannibal. Whose self-control has suffered temporarily due to the transition… *sniggers*

Hannibal is not certain how long he remains in that trance-like state, not quite asleep, not quite awake. Just drifting, only distantly aware of Will's body entwined with his and the faint touch of lips along his exposed skin. 

His mind is focused inwards, tangled in recollections that are alternately hazy and vibrant, with no real order to them. The memory of his last therapy session is startlingly vivid; Will discovering the drawings, the shocking turn of events, the revelations that followed.... sex, blood and _teeth._

There was very little pain. Only all-consuming, mind-numbing pleasure. Hannibal even remembers thinking that it wasn't a bad way to go, all things considered. He was surprised, but too far gone to protest, by the time Will fed him his blood. After that, there was just darkness and strange sensations that left him reeling. 

Waking up the first time, if those brief moments of awareness could even be called that, was confusing. His body felt strange, his mind was muddled and Will's actions certainly did not help. The recollection of those moments is still rather blurry but he can remember the exquisite taste of blood on his tongue, rich and flavored in a way that raw blood _shouldn't_ be. The savage need it kindled in him was unlike any hunger he ever experienced. 

And then there was Will himself, his hands and his mouth everywhere, hot and insistent and far too much. It felt good- it always did with Will- and even the pain tinged pleasure of overstimulation wasn't enough to get Hannibal to truly try and stop the other man. The orgasm that followed was utterly draining and he was unable to do anything other than slump back to bed, dazed, and comply passively with Will's suggestion to just 'drift'. 

But now, he can he feel the lethargy lifting from both his body and mind. Especially his mind. 

Clarity returns in increments, his thoughts becoming sharper, less sluggish and it takes only a few minutes for Hannibal to put all the pieces together. 

Will is a vampire. 

And unless the last few hours he can recall were a particularly strange dream, so is Hannibal now. 

He would be impressed by Will and his perfect charade if he were a little less angry at the blatant way he _used_ Hannibal as a glorified plaything. Hypocritical of him, perhaps, given his own original intentions to manipulate and shape Will, but anger is seldom a rational emotion. 

And for some reason, he feels quite disinclined to tame his fury into something manageable as he usually does. 

Will shifts against him, distracting Hannibal from his thoughts, and his eyes flash open -the weariness fleeing his being entirely- as the man presses a soft kiss to Hannibal's cheek. Hannibal forces himself to remain still as Will draws back, pushing himself up on his elbows to peer down at Hannibal with a distinctly pleased expression. 

"You're awake. Properly this time, I hope." 

Hannibal isn't even aware of the fact that he's moved until he has Will pinned beneath him, one hand wrapped tight around the slender column of his throat. 

Will grins up at him, seemingly unconcerned that his throat is being crushed. Hannibal applies more pressure, digging his fingers into the soft flesh, teeth bared in a feral snarl. That draws a laugh out of the other man, a low, rough sound that inexplicably rouses all of Hannibal's survival instincts. Will does not look even vaguely threatening, lips tilted in a wide smile, eyes bright with amusement and dark hair splayed on the deep blue fabric. He looks unfeasibly beautiful, ethereal and fey-like. _Enticing_. 

And yet, there is no denying that caution is overtaking Hannibal's mind, eclipsing his anger and causing his hold to loosen. Will remains pliant underneath him even after Hannibal releases his neck but his amusement only seems to grow. 

Hannibal takes a moment to assess himself; he takes in the way his own body feels almost alien to him, how his emotions are churning inside him with unusual vehemence, the intense burning in his throat... and concludes with a fresh flash of ire that he's not wholly himself for the moment. 

"What have you done to me, Will?" He asks and is chagrined when his voice comes out in a growl instead of its usual calm cadence. 

Will's hands rise to cup his face and Hannibal attempts to lean away from the touch only to find himself held in place by the strength in that deceptively delicate grasp. He grits his teeth, seething inside, and glowers at the smiling man. 

"I've given you a rare gift," Will answers, blatantly and infuriatingly pleased with himself. "One that I sincerely hope you will not reject. For both our sakes." 

The words are said lightly, no menace evident in them but Hannibal can still pick up a faint undertone of danger in Will's cheery smile. 

He nearly tells Will that _this_ could barely be considered a 'gift', but the words die in his throat as he realizes that the alternative was death. While Hannibal is not desperately attached to life like some pitiable creatures he’s come across, he does quite enjoy living. So he swallows the instinctive response and says something else entirely. 

"You have given me little choice in that, Will. But I am curious to know what you'll do if I reject _you_." 

Again, Will's expression remains frozen in an amused smile but his eyes change, something cold and deadly peeking out from beneath the calm facade. Hannibal finds himself fighting the urge to shirk away from that gaze, wary in spite of himself. 

Will suddenly seems nothing like the man he believed he knew. 

"I already told you that I do not intend to let you go." Will cocks his head to the side, tightening his hold on Hannibal ever so slightly. "That still holds true." 

It is all too easy for Hannibal to read between the lines, the implication in Will’s statement glaringly obvious. 

"You will kill me if you cannot have me." 

Will's smile widens, revealing the gleaming tips of his canines, and he flips them with little effort, throwing Hannibal to the bed and draping himself over him. 

"You're mine," he whispers, mouth pressed to Hannibal's ear. "From the moment we met, you've belonged to me." 

Hannibal would object if it isn't for the unchecked reverence in Will 's voice and the dark adoration in his eyes when he leans back to stare down at him. He can understand the sentiment only too well, though he can't help but think that his own infatuation with Will pales in comparison. 

Will releases him with a light peck to the cheek, hopping off the bed entirely. 

"I know you have questions. And it might be better to have this conversation in a more... decent manner." Hannibal frowns when Will's  eyes traverse the length of his naked body on the mattress with barely concealed appreciation, though his own keep being distracted by Will's similar state of undress. He slides off the bed with as much dignity as he can muster, wondering briefly why Will brought him here instead of Wolf Trap. 

"If your thirst becomes problematic," Will tells him offhandedly, "Please let me know." 

He's gone before Hannibal can respond. 

 

*

 

The silence is awkward and stifling, both parties seemingly reluctant to initiate conversation yet displeased with the continued quietude. 

And Hannibal discovers, as he sits opposite Will in the dark confines of his study, that he longer needs to breathe. An interesting and not altogether shocking detail, but one that he does not have the patience to contemplate properly for the moment. 

For once, his curiosity is overridden by a blend of fury and impatience, though the former is inexplicably diminishing with each second that passes. 

In the end, it's Will that breaks their impasse with a soft question. 

"Shall I start at the beginning?" 

Hannibal nods, eyes fixed intently on Will's pale face illuminated by the light from the fireplace. 

"I was born in Europe sometime in the 800s. I don't remember much from that life, just a few blurred images of places long unseen and faces long forgotten. The vampire who turned me, Molly, later told me that she chose not to kill me so that I could be her mate." Will shoots Hannibal a wicked grin, cerulean eyes flashing ruby red for a moment. Hannibal frowns, unreasonably displeased by the words and how another once sought to claim Will as her own. "Clearly, that didn't quite work out. You see, vampirism has this tendency to slowly draw out the inherent darkness in people and mine was apparently more potent than that of most. Molly was far too _kind_ for us to be compatible in any manner after I was turned. I left her as soon as I learned to fend for myself." 

There's a pause in the narrative and Will seems thoughtful, eyes glazed, chin resting on curled fists and Hannibal has to doubt whether the pregnant silence is truly for Will to gather his thoughts or merely for effect. 

"You won't be surprised to know that I spent a majority of my life in isolation, from both humans and _Others_ , venturing out only to feed. Or fuck, if I felt like it. Though as I've said, I've never lain with a human before you." 

"Should I be flattered?" Hannibal interrupts dryly and the other laughs, lips peeling back from teeth to expose elongated canines that draw Hannibal's gaze, stirring a certain recent memory. 

"Oh, you already are, mon cher," Will answers fondly, his voice caressing the gentle endearment. Hannibal does not deny him though he does turn his face away, frowning darkly. 

A breath passes and then Will is _there_ , kneeling by his feet, face tilted upward and hands spread wide on Hannibal's thighs. There is nothing submissive about the position or the hint of a smirk that shows on those full lips. 

"Don't be like that, Hannibal," Will chides gently as if to a child and Hannibal fixes him with a glare that merely causes his smile to grow. "Every moment since our very first meeting has been leading to this. The sole alternative would have been a fate that left you dead, permanently depriving me of your companionship. Surely this is much more preferable." 

"How will this… change affect my life, Will?" Hannibal counters, unwilling to admit aloud that Will is right, not when his fury still simmers inside him. 

"Not too drastically, not with that insane self-discipline of yours. You'll need human blood to sustain you of course. It's pretty much the only thing vampire legends have managed to get right. Without it, our kind will be reduced to mindless beasts, crazed with thirst. And you must kill the ones you drink from for secrecy's sake. I doubt you'll have much of a problem with that part." The last part is said with a quiet chuckle, Will shooting him a look that is loaded with a twisted parody of affection that warms Hannibal regardless of the situation. 

It suddenly strikes him that Will does love him, though that version of _love_ can never really be called that. Then again, the same can be said for Hannibal. And it is somewhat heady to be on the receiving end of such a severe passion. 

"We’re immortal and pretty damn hard to kill. Decapitation should do the trick, though it wouldn’t hurt to burn the body. The myths about sunlight and coffins are just that. Myths. We're monsters trapped in a state between life and death, not forsaken corpses. I mean, I think you'd have noticed something if you were sleeping with a dead body." 

Hannibal's lips quirk up at that, amused by the sarcasm that sits so familiarly on Will's tongue. It's true though. Hannibal can feel his heart thumping steadily in his chest, although the beats are slower than they should be. And he remembers the countless times he's held Will against him, of feeling the pleasing coolness- far from unnatural- of his skin against his own. 

Hannibal can feel his anger at Will draining away with each moment that passes- with each covetous glance, each murmured word and each gentle touch. 

But he keeps his face frozen in an impassive mask, staring down at Will who continues to watch him with that infuriating half-smile. 

Suddenly, Will breaks into a wide grin and that's the only warning Hannibal receives before the man is upon him, knees on either side of his legs, arms looped around his shoulders, face close to his. 

"I'm afraid I don't quite understand why you are so displeased," Will whispers, ghosting his lips along the sharp curve of Hannibal's cheek. "You have no attachment to your humanity, no morals to dissuade you from enjoying this life. None of those paltry little concerns that would torment most humans in this situation. "

"I'm not offended by what you have done to me, Will. It's my lack of a choice in the matter that angers me." Hannibal doesn't think the enormity of this has truly sunk in yet but he does know that he will never be averse to a lifetime spent with his Will, especially not when he has turned out to be so much _more_ than what he anticipated. Besides, he has always had a great talent for adapting. 

"Hypocrite," Will sighs without reprimand, mouth curving into a smirk where it's pressed against Hannibal's skin. "You would've done the same in my place." 

He doesn't refute the assertion, smiling instead and turning his face to brush their mouths together in a brief kiss. 

"Yes. But a predator does not like being made to feel like prey." 

Will laughs, short and lively, drawing back to meet Hannibal's gaze with his own, red catching red. 

"You were my prey," Will says bluntly, "But you were never a plaything. You are the most fascinating creature I've met in my entire existence." 

Hannibal kisses him again, rough and deep, teeth scraping together with the force of it and tries to pour everything the naked veneration in Will's voice arouses in him into the kiss. 

"And now," Will gasps when they part, clutching Hannibal's face with hands like claws, "You're my equal. My mate. And nothing, not even yourself can take you from me." 

Hannibal wonders, as his mouth is ravaged by a devouring clash of lips and tongue, what his therapist would say is she were to ever find out how those words-possessive and obsessive and so very _sincere_ \- fills him with a kind of wild delight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> According to my original plan for this sequel, there would be five chapters dealing with the consequences of what happened in the final chapter of Hungers. Then, there would be an indefinite number of chapters that followed the format of the first story- a chronological set of events with considerable time gaps in between. Prompt fills were supposed to be included in the latter part. But I think it would be less confusing to split the two parts into two separate fics so that it’ll flow better. 
> 
> **So what I’m trying to say is… there will be 5 chapters in this and then there’ll be a sequel to the sequel.**
> 
> This story is evolving on its own and I’m just running with it by this point. Blame the muse. _Always_  blame the muse.


	3. sharp surprise, sweet sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannibal tries to eat human food. It goes about as well as you can imagine. 
> 
>  
> 
> _"You tried to eat," Will drawls, mouth curving up into a devious smile that Hannibal wants to rip off his face, "You could've waited for me, you know."_
> 
>  
> 
> _Hannibal rises to his feet in a fluid motion, lips unconsciously peeling back in a snarl as he moves towards Will who stands his ground, utterly unfazed._
> 
>  
> 
> _"Do you know what you've cost me?" Hannibal breathes, his voice a low hiss that nonetheless rings dangerously n the short space between them._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Rosamine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosamine/pseuds/Rosamine) wanted to see Hannibal trying to consume normal food while Will was absent. Here ya go, dear. ;-) 
> 
> Warning for non-graphic vomiting. Just a sentence, really.

Hannibal is decidedly surprised when Will leaves. The last few hours were spent in idle conversation, Hannibal allowing himself to fully engage in his curiosity concerning Will once his initial anger passed and his usual self-restraint returned. It was interesting but downright surreal to hear _Will_ talk of the distant past with such weary familiarity. And he wasn't expecting Will to leave in the evening to go to Wolf Trap and feed his dogs, with a murmured promise to be back as soon as possible so that they could _hunt_. 

He's appreciative of the separation, unexpected as it might be. It is good to have an opportunity to just muse in peace and collect his thoughts without Will's presence to distract him. He's aware that it might be a deliberate action on the other man's part and is glad, thought not grateful considering the entirety of the situation, for it.

Above all, Hannibal is inquisitive about his new existence, eager even to learn more about the coiled strength he can feel thrumming in his muscles, the sudden clarity of his senses that makes every moment a fascinating new experience and the subtler changes he can detect in his psyche. Hannibal has changed, in more ways than one, and regardless of his hypocritical irritation at Will for forcing this on him, he's deeply interested to see how it will affect him and their relationship.

Hannibal would be lying if he were to say that the idea of a life spent with Will doesn't appeal to him greatly.

He glides from room to room, patiently cataloging how different everything now feels; the scents, sights, sounds, textures all acquiring fresh dimensions. He assiduously ignores the persistently growing intensity of the burning in his throat.

It's only when a more familiar type of hunger blooms in his belly that he makes his way to the kitchen, choosing to forego his usual flamboyant preparation and presentation in favor of heating up yesterday's leftovers. Contrary to popular belief, Hannibal did occasionally content himself with those, especially at those times when his hectic schedule drained him more than he'd ever admit. Besides, he'd like to be done by the time Will returns- within half an hour at most. Not only does he want to sate his unnatural thirst- he needs no clarification as to exactly _what_ will achieve that, the taste of Will's blood is still sharp and hot on his tongue- but the prospect of hunting with Will is something he's been considering for a while now. The circumstances are radically different from what Hannibal anticipated, their roles quite reversed, but the activity is no less appealing for it.

The scent should've been the first clue; the detectable aroma failing to rouse his appetite.

But the first bite... that's what shocks him to the core.

A luscious fare of what he knows to be a savory blend of flavors turns to ash in his mouth. His hunger remains unabated.

He swallows a few more mouthfuls, apprehension rising considerably as he tastes _nothing_ , and manages to keep it down for all of five minutes before a telltale lurch in his stomach sends him bolting to the bathroom. He only distantly notes the inhuman speed with which he arrives at his destination before he's bent over the toilet, his body violently rejecting the undigested pieces of meat.

The ordeal is unpleasant but not exhausting as vomiting generally is and Hannibal feels no worse for wear _physically_ as he mechanically makes his way out of the bathroom. Pure, unadulterated shock momentarily overrides his budding appetite as Hannibal fully assimilates the implications of his inability to taste food. The bland numbness on his tongue from the meat is a sharp contrast to the livid flavors that assaulted his palette when Will fed him his blood.

It's not difficult to surmise exactly what’s wrong and the anger that dissipated almost completely returns with a vengeance, stirring in Hannibal the recurring desire to  _tear Will Graham apart._

The loss of his humanity is inconsequential. The lack of choice he had in the matter can be ignored. But he cannot easily forgive Will for ruining an act that has been the most sacred ritual in his life for decades.

Unlike before, his temper does not flare out of control and even though his fingers twitch with the urge to rip and rage and destroy, Hannibal manages to keep the impulse in check as he waits in the living room for Will's return. He knows that no matter how great his indignation or how potent his fury, he will not kill the other man. Not simply because Hannibal finds it hard to truly summon the wish to end Will permanently but because he's certain that he is not strong enough to kill Will. The danger he sensed from Will mere hours ago was subtle but powerful, like a ferocious storm waiting to be unleashed.

Hannibal is intimately familiar with predators. And Will is without a doubt the most lethal one he's ever encountered, to the extent that he now wonders how he could have been so blind to it in all their time together.

Violence, no matter how sweetly _tempting_ it is at the moment, will not help him. But Will is going to answer for this.

It's not much later that Will returns, letting himself inside without bothering to knock and directly approaching the living room as if sensing Hannibal's presence there. Hannibal keeps his face blank, devoid of the turbulence inside, as Will comes to a pause before him, watching him with a curiously assessing gaze. After a second, Will cocks his head, scenting the air with a deep breath and Hannibal realizes that no explanation will be required.

"You tried to eat," Will drawls, mouth curving up into a devious smile that Hannibal wants to rip off his face, "You could've waited for me, you know."

Hannibal rises to his feet in a fluid motion, lips unconsciously peeling back in a snarl as he moves towards Will, who stands his ground, utterly unfazed.

"Do you know what you've cost me?" Hannibal breathes, his voice a low hiss that nonetheless rings dangerously in the short space between them.

"Do you think I care?" Will counters, his smile inexplicably growing as he continues to calmly observe Hannibal. "You must understand, Hannibal, that my reasons for turning you were purely selfish. I wanted you to be mine in every possible way and I did what I had to do to facilitate that. The consequences are ultimately immaterial."

The words themselves aren't as infuriating as they should be, their earlier conversation providing Hannibal with a very clear sense of the obsessive covetousness Will feels for him- one that he even reciprocates on a less intense scale. But something about the gleeful glint in Will's eyes gives it away and a sound that bears striking resemblance to a growl escapes Hannibal as realizes that Will meant for this to happen.

"You deliberately refrained from telling me that I cannot taste food." It's a clipped statement rather than a question and Hannibal imagines plunging his hand through Will's chest to crush his heart. "Why?"

"I was curious to see what would happen," Will replies, stepping forward until he's almost pressed against Hannibal, testing his control yet again. "You certainly did not disappoint."

Will raises a hand as if to touch Hannibal's face only for it to be caught in a punishing hold, Hannibal making no attempt to rein in his newfound strength. But Will only laughs, lazily flexing his fingers in their compact prison. Before Hannibal can react, Will's other hand shoots out to grip the back of his neck with crushing force, short nails burrowing into smooth skin.

And in a moment, he finds himself face down on the floor, Will draped bodily across his back.

Hannibal doesn't know whether to be impressed or irritated.

He does growl when Will drags his lips along the side his neck, a hint of teeth pressing into the supple flesh. A smiling mouth brushes Hannibal’s ear in something that's not quite a kiss as Will says, "I'm afraid you don't entirely understand your new body just yet, Hannibal. Allow me to show you."

A faint pressure on the fragile skin of his neck is all the warning he receives before Will's fangs sink deep, sending overwhelming waves of pain thrashing through his body, a far cry from the mindless pleasure he experienced when Will first bit him. But the pain itself is a heady thing, drawing a sound of gratification from Hannibal as he melts against the floor, automatically baring his neck for Will.

All rational thought flees his mind in an instant.

It's strangely soothing to feel Will's jaw working against him in rhythmic swallows, his hand flexing in Hannibal 's grip to twine their fingers together in an eerie gesture of intimacy and he is starkly disappointed when Will pulls away with a final lick to the puncture wounds. The sensation of his skin healing by itself distracts Hannibal for the fraction of a second before a scathing fire in his throat and stomach forces a startled gasp from him.

Hannibal is too dazed to resist when Will pulls him to his feet. He stumbles and raises a hand to grip his own throat in a brutal grasp as if to quench the flames licking at his insides. Through the ravenous hunger, Hannibal sees the other gazing at him with a fond smile on his blood stained lips.

"Come, Hannibal," he vaguely hears Will say, "It's time to feed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is a little rushed because I was busy with uni exams (evil, evil things). So, it’s not edited as much as I’d like. If you spot any errors, please do let me know.


	4. beautiful in death as in life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will POV. Hannibal feeds. 
> 
>  
> 
> _There is a part of Will- the darkest part of him that longs to slaughter the world and bathe in the carnage- that wants to unleash Hannibal upon humanity right then just to witness the glorious destruction he's sure to cause. He wants to watch Hannibal rip apart men and women with his teeth, free of every iota of his composure._
> 
>  
> 
> _But he clamps down hard on that desire and resolves to content himself with the vivid images his mind is only too happy to provide. As much he'd love to massacre half of Baltimore with his mate simply to celebrate their true and eternal union, he is aware that the rest of the supernatural community will never allow such a blatant bloodbath._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, erm, escalated quickly. *shifty eyes*

The drive from Baltimore to Wolf Trap feels longer than it should with the tension thickening the air between them. Hannibal doesn't speak to him; in fact he seems to not even breathe, holding himself still and straight on the passenger seat, fingers digging in to his own clothed thighs. 

Will can understand his frustration, can remember with too much clarity precisely how it felt to be utterly consumed by the searing thirst that destroyed his restraint and left him a mindless mess until it was sated. But he needs Hannibal to understand just what it means to have his humanity stripped away in this manner and he’s always believed that _showing_ is more effective than telling. He was careful to take only just enough blood from Hannibal to drive him to the brink of madness and not over it. 

Hannibal is doing remarkably well in his opinion, not that he expected anything else from a man who had such preternatural control over his self even when human. Still, he feels only amusement at the longing looks Hannibal sneaks at him, or specifically, his throat. He knows that if he were to turn and look, he'd see the fledgling's crimson eyes gleaming with sheer need. But in spite of his inexperience, it seems that Hannibal knows that feeding on Will would not satiate him anymore. The sire's blood is only a temporary solution at best anyway, a handy method to hastily suppress the thirst until a more apt quarry can be arranged. 

This trip would be faster if they ran but Hannibal cannot be trusted among humans when he's in this state. There is a part of Will- the darkest part of him that longs to slaughter the world and bathe in the carnage- that wants to unleash Hannibal upon humanity right then just to witness the glorious destruction he's sure to cause. He wants to watch Hannibal rip apart men and women with his teeth, free of every iota of his composure. 

But he clamps down hard on that desire and resolves to content himself with the vivid images his mind is only too happy to provide. As much he'd love to massacre half of Baltimore with his mate simply to celebrate their true and eternal union, he is aware that the rest of the supernatural community will never allow such a blatant bloodbath. 

Not a word passes between them even after they reach the farmhouse but Hannibal's hard stare makes it abundantly clear that Will is not yet forgiven. He merely grins in response and makes his way to the small barn outside, ignoring the persistent barks of his dogs in favor of a more urgent matter. Hannibal follows him readily, too engrossed in his hunger to do more than spare a look of mild curiosity at the interior. 

Will very rarely uses this building, keeping it mostly as a storage place for the tools and various miscellaneous apparatus he uses to entertain himself when life becomes too tedious. But the room appears nearly empty now, all tables and items pushed to the sides to clear a large area in the middle. 

The woman is tied to a thick, sturdy pole in the center of the space, her eyes dark and terrified as she stares at them, a pitiful keen erupting from under the black material covering her mouth. 

It is a somewhat dramatic presentation, Will knows, but he was aiming for effect more than anything else. 

A meal procured for Hannibal, keeping in mind how it isn't safe to allow him to hunt his prey himself the first time. Will is unabashedly excited for the day when they can truly hunt together. 

A low growl, deep and guttural, slips past Hannibal's lips as the sight and scent of the human washes over him, and Will turns to look at him, admiring the monstrous features gracing his mate's visage in the dim light. He quietly steps aside, retreating to the shadows in the corner of the room to simply observe. 

For a long, long moment, Hannibal doesn't react, standing taut and frozen near the entrance, eyes fixed on the trembling figure of the human. Then his nostrils flare, eyes fluttering rapidly as he breathes in the air infused with the woman's scent. Will knows firsthand exactly how intense the experience is- how it feels for your entire existence to narrow down to the warm, intoxicating promise of life and blood and contentment. And so he's not surprised when Hannibal _breaks_ , the very last tendrils of his control deserting him as nature wholly takes over. 

He's beside the woman in a flash, but he doesn't instantly start feeding, freeing her instead from her binds with ease and splintering the pole in the process. Hannibal holds her trembling form close for a moment in a morbid mockery of an embrace before plunging his teeth to her neck in one sinuous moment. 

Will really shouldn't be this surprised that Hannibal makes even savagery seem graceful. 

She resists in the beginning, fighting admirably with all her strength just as she had when Will took her from a shady park bereft of other humans, a hasty hunt that was as spontaneous as it could ever be. But it takes only a moment for her to relax, going pliant in Hannibal's arms, eyes half-closing in induced pleasure. Her stifled whimpers turn into breathy sighs and soon, even that fades until only the wonderfully obscene noises of frenzied suction fill the barn. 

Will shifts his attention to Hannibal, taking in his firm but delicate hold of the human's body, one hand in her hair holding her neck bared as he drinks, eager and frantic with none of the quiet dignity with which he used to consume his elaborate meals. He can even see Hannibal's throat working with every swift swallow and the way his skin acquires a faint flush of false life as the woman is drained of hers. 

His body stirs in response to the pleasing sight, the joy of Hannibal becoming a creature of _Will's_ making combining with the sheer physicality of the event to rouse a passion in him that is shocking in its intensity. 

Hannibal finishes far too soon, dropping the human's bloodless form to the ground with a moan at the loss. His face is fierce and bloody when he turns his attention to Will, eyes bright and red, lips and chin stained with scarlet. He looks gorgeous. 

Breathtaking. 

Will is on him before he can think better of it, his own human skin abandoned in favor of bestowing a vicious kiss on Hannibal that is all teeth and violence. Tongues tangle as their mouths crush against each other with unrestrained brutality, lips tearing under serrated canines as easily as cloth tears under their seeking hands. The taste of blood on Hannibal is exquisite, sending sharp jolts down Will's body that bring him to throbbing hardness within an instant. 

He hooks a leg behind Hannibal's knees and yanks, sending him stumbling to the floor. Will follows, straddling him as he proceeds to divest them both of the tattered remnants of their clothing. Hannibal seems tempted to chase another kind of pleasure than the one Will is after, the man enthusiastically mouthing along Will's throat, teeth digging into skin just short of breaking it. Will grabs a fistful of his hair and pulls him off his neck, catching his lips in a quick kiss before insistently shoving Hannibal down to the rough floor until he's lying flat. 

He takes a moment to simply observe Hannibal, gazing up at Will with wild eyes, mouth stretched in a chilling smile. He looks like a god of death and Will can't understand how it is possible for him to simultaneously want to worship and ruin such a marvelous creature. 

"Can you ever even comprehend _what you do to me?_ " The question is uttered with breathless wonder, directed mostly at himself than Hannibal. He gets a laugh in answer, true, unfettered laughter the likes of which he's never before heard from the other. 

"I can imagine," Hannibal replies, the notes of teasing nearly swallowed by the raw lust coloring his words. 

He knows Hannibal's inhibitions are lowered by the heady sense of power that's the result of his first true taste of human blood. And he's glad for it because he is not certain if he would get to see the look of absolute adoration Hannibal is now giving him any time soon otherwise. 

Will leans down to suck hard at Hannibal's barely there pulse, earning a muffled groan. He lets his teeth graze the skin, tempted as always to bite down and _take_ but resisting, knowing that Hannibal does not have enough to spare just yet. 

"William," Hannibal growls, arching his body suggestively against Will's and sliding a hand between their bodies to brush his fingers against their straining erections. 

He pulls away from Hannibal with a harsh bite to his collarbone, settling comfortably on the prone man's hips and batting away Hannibal's hand from their cocks. Grinning, Will brings a palm to his mouth and sinks his teeth into the supple flesh, ripping without a care for the pain. Hannibal's eyes glow impossibly brighter at the sight of blood, his mouth twisting into a feral snarl but Will curls his other hand none too gently around his throat, keeping Hannibal on the ground. 

Will fists Hannibal's cock with his bleeding palm, thoroughly coating him with glistening red. He only gives Hannibal enough time to let out a shocked gasp before rising off the man to lower himself on to the bloodied shaft, gritting his teeth as he's stretched too wide too fast, the blood only doing so much to ease their coupling. The pain is negligible though and whatever tears the rough entry may have caused heal by the time Will has all of Hannibal inside him. 

Hannibal throws his head back with a strangled mewl, his hips bucking up helplessly at the sudden onslaught of sensations. Will doesn't ease his hold on Hannibal's throat even when he starts to move, having no reservations about robbing the man of air that he no longer needs. He starts slow, gently rocking against Hannibal who rakes his fingers through Will's bare legs, leaving deep gouges that sting pleasantly and mend entirely too fast. 

One thing Will is going to miss, is leaving marks on Hannibal. But with Will's own essence breathing eternal life into his mate, what need is there for further proof of possession? 

Hannibal thrusts up against Will insistently, eyes glazed with violent desire burning into his. Will reluctantly releases Hannibal's neck, bracing both hands on the man's wide chest as he increases his pace, feeling Hannibal's considerable girth spread him open with every stroke. It's intense and a perfect blend of pleasure and pain, every deep drag of his cock inside him feeding the pressure building sharp and steady in his gut, each wrecked groan slipping past Hannibal stoking his frenzied passion. 

Will cries out when Hannibal wraps one hand around his neglected cock and starts stroking him with a rough, tight grip. Bolts of pure pleasure shudder through his body and Will speeds up until he's slamming down on Hannibal with blind need and unchecked force, each movement drawing whimpers and screams from them both. Will continues to change the angle until he finds one that makes him see stars and he ruthlessly grinds down, hard and fast until they're both close enough to the edge to taste it on their tongues. 

The finish together, Will painting Hannibal's hand and their bodies with his release as his mate jerks and comes inside him, their lips parted in a shuddering cry for each other. 

Neither of them are tired afterwards as humans might be but Will is too contented to do anything more than lift off Hannibal and collapse on top of him, spreading himself over his lover and nuzzling his cheek with gentle affection. He's a mess, congealed blood and cooling semen seeping out of him, but can't quite bother about it with the notes of bliss still thrumming softly through him. 

Hannibal’s arms wrap around Will in a loose hold and he turns his head to press their mouths together in a slow, close-mouthed kiss that feels more intimate than what they just shared. 

"Can you now appreciate your new palette, darling?" 

The whispered question is met with a faint huff of breath from Hannibal, not exactly a happy sound in spite of the quick quirk of his lips. 

"I suppose it has its merits." 

Will doesn't believe he's quite forgiven just yet but there's no hurry, really. He knows how long this irritation is likely to last. Hannibal simply needs some time to settle into his new skin. 

He throws a sideways glance at the fallen body on the ground a few feet away from them, considers for a brief moment rising to clean everything up and promptly dismisses the notion in favor of laying his head on Hannibal's chest with a sense of what just might be peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I asked [lactobacille](http://lactobacille.tumblr.com)to stop me. She did not. So here you go. 
> 
> Also, I edited this chapter while under the grip of a rather unpleasant fever so brain was not really working too well. So, if any pesky errors or typos pop up, let me know.


	5. learning a new skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several days later… 
> 
>  
> 
> _Will climbs atop Hannibal without breaking the kiss and his clothes brush against Hannibal's uncovered skin, the contact good in its own way but not enough. Hannibal does not hesitate to rip the shirt off Will, bundling the tattered fabric and throwing it carelessly to the floor. Will doesn't protest at the treatment and instead presses himself more firmly against him. He draws back to look at Hannibal for a charged moment, head bowed and eyes hooded with desire. He stares at Hannibal with an air of awe, as if he's something... precious._
> 
>  
> 
> _It's not a new expression but time has made it only more intense and Hannibal swears he feels something inside him melt at those seeking stares._
> 
>  
> 
> _"Fuck me," he commands, his voice more of a growl than words._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get this out last week but I was a teeeeeny bit preoccupied with my exams. I really need to catch up on my writing…

Hannibal does adapt.

It is not as easy as Will made it sound. Hannibal has changed and while the changes are more physical than psychological, their effects are no less drastic for it. His senses were always quite sharp but they're honed to a whole new level now, sight, scent, sound, taste and touch so much more intense than he ever perceived they could be. He has only appreciation for the enhanced vision and hearing but the other three are less easy to cope with.

Hannibal's sense of smell, which verged on hyperosmia even when he was human, now provides him with a relentless flow of information about his environment and the people within. It's interesting sometimes but mostly it's irritating. And then there's how the scent of prey assaults him, taking over him with little warning, stripping him off the control he's been tentatively regaining since his transition. Will manages to keep him in check with a little too much ease, typically amused by the entire situation. Hannibal ends up cancelling all his appointments for a week, citing a family emergency. Will takes the time off as well, calling in sick and firmly rebuffing Jack's efforts to get him to shorten his leave. They spent the time together, mostly in Wolf Trap, and Will teaches him about vampirism in between bouts of sex and feeding.

The loss of his palette is his one true regret but Will calmly tells him that it's the price to be paid. He doesn't really apologize and Hannibal knows he's not sorry but the anger fades nonetheless, smothered by practicality. He can still cook with excellence courtesy of his nose but the food is ash in his mouth, bland and tasteless. He recalls the numerous times he's had Will at his table, seemingly appreciative of the fare provided and thinks of how he had plans to teach Will the finer culinary arts in time. Once again, he's torn between admiration at Will's polite consumption of food that held no appeal to him and annoyance at his ruthless dismantling of Hannibal's plans.

The other thing that contributes to Hannibal's slowly growing apathy about the loss is his newfound appreciation for the taste of blood. It is an entirely new and stunning experience, the diverse taste of thick, fresh blood on his tongue filling and exhilarating in a way that defies comparison. It feels like _life_ itself is exploding in bursts of exquisite flavors in his mouth and Hannibal can't help but be awed. He won't say it's a fair exchange but it is more than enough to silence his complaints once the initial rage has passed.

He feeds far too much during that first week, the hunger inside a writhing, live force that claws at his self, demanding to be satiated. At times, it's from Will, the older vampire's throat bared happily to Hannibal's fangs but that's often more about pleasure than food to both of them. It's humans that truly sate his thirst. Will's version of 'hunting' is exciting and entertaining and Hannibal is infinitely more familiar with the woods surrounding Will's house by the end. Merely running with Will, testing the limits of his new body, turns out to be a most... interesting activity.

But the most jarring change is Will himself. In certain ways, he is very much like the person Hannibal believed him to be yet in many others, he is a whole new creature. Barriers are no longer necessary between them but while it is so very freeing to bare all of his truth to another and have the gesture be returned wholeheartedly, the way the transparency affects their relationship is as terrifying as it is empowering.

Their interactions have shifted their tone now that neither are no longer pretending. It is more disconcerting to be so _seen_ than Hannibal anticipated. Even more so to see Will and truly understand what lies beneath the human facade. The seed of darkness he believed Will held turned out to be the very essence that made him. Will is more of a monster made of inky shadows and cold power rather than the mere man with mighty potential Hannibal first believed him to be.

And most of the time, he feels like a fine-edged blade that is buried deep in Hannibal's heart.

The sting is exquisite and only too welcome.

"You think too much, love." The words, softly spoken in to his ears, rouse Hannibal from his earnest contemplation, drawing his mind back to the present. He hadn't heard Will join him, immersed as he was in his musings.

He turns on the bed so he's facing Will only for his lips to be caught in a lazy kiss, Will sloppily licking his way inside with more lust than finesse. Not that Hannibal is complaining. He sighs into the kiss when Will's hands start wandering on his bare torso, sliding smoothly along the muscles on his back and the light hair dusting his chest. He leans into the touch, snaking his own arms around Will's shoulders to pull him towards Hannibal. He has to bite back a moan when Will pinches his nipple hard, the sensation sending heat pooling in his groin.

It's almost ridiculous how exceedingly sensitive he has become, feeling every touch and caress with far too much intensity though not to the mindless extent he did when he woke up initially. Will's already told him many a times that he'll become accustomed to the sensitivity in time. Meanwhile, he seems intent on exploiting Hannibal's heightened susceptibility to physical stimulation for as long as he's able.

Will climbs atop Hannibal without breaking the kiss and his clothes brush against Hannibal's uncovered skin, the contact good in its own way but not enough. Hannibal does not hesitate to rip the shirt off Will, bundling the tattered fabric and throwing it carelessly to the floor. Will doesn't protest at the treatment and instead presses himself more firmly against him. He draws back to look at Hannibal for a charged moment, head bowed and eyes hooded with desire. He stares at Hannibal with an air of awe, as if he's something... precious.

It's not a new expression but time has made it only more intense and Hannibal swears he feels something inside him melt at those seeking stares.

"Fuck me," he commands, his voice more of a growl than words.

Will smirks in answer and rakes a hand down Hannibal's chest in a forceful caress, nails digging into skin and leaving red welts in their wake that heal as soon as they form. Hannibal groans at the touch, eyes fluttering close at the faint pleasure-pain. He feels Will slide down his body, the brush of fingers against his mostly erect cock and then there's cold heat all around him as Will swallows him in one go. Hannibal squeezes his eyes tighter when Will starts to suck, his mouth and throat working on the hard flesh in sinfully wonderful ways. He allows moans and gasps to leave him, knowing Will likes to hear them and far too focused on the pleasure to bother with restraint.

A particularly clever twist of Will's tongue leaves Hannibal arching into him, hips thrusting wildly into the inviting heat. Will takes it with ease, groaning around Hannibal's cock. A hand fondles his balls, squeezing with just the right amount of pressure before trailing over his perineum to scrape over his hole, the dry touch wrenching a mewl from Hannibal.

Will is as merciless as always, working Hannibal rough and fast with his mouth while he presses the digits harder over his entrance, rubbing against the sensitive skin. He quickly drives Hannibal to the edge and keeps him there, not giving him the push needed to send him over. Hannibal jerks his hips sporadically and tangles a hand in Will's curls, wordlessly begging for release. Will grins through his mouthful and begins to drag his lips up Hannibal's length. Razor sharp teeth brush not-so-innocently along the underside, sending sweet agony flaring through him and Hannibal is lost, shuddering and clawing at the sheets as his orgasm rips through him, flooding him with pure, all-consuming pleasure.

Will swallows his release, licking his shaft dry until Hannibal is twitching under his tongue, weakly protesting the excessive attention. He lies limp on the bed, cocooned in the lingering warmth of his climax, as Will makes his way up Hannibal's body, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the length of him. He lazily wraps his arms around his lover, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in the potent aroma emanating from Will- sharp and spicy with the heady tang of arousal.

Will's hands roam over Hannibal, unhurried and possessive, caressing every dip and curve with tender affection. He leans back a bit to trace Hannibal's mouth with a finger, simply touching for a moment before dipping inside, sliding wetly along his tongue. Hannibal sucks on the digit with gusto, taking it in to the knuckle and eagerly accepting two more. He keeps his eyes locked with Will's as he plays with his fingers, biting lightly and tonguing the pads in time with the suction. Will hums in pleasure, eyes darkening in lust before bursting into bright crimson, a terrible _need_ Hannibal has come to know and love gleaming in their depths.

The fingers slip from his mouth with a slick sound and Will wastes no time directing them to Hannibal's entrance, pushing one in without fanfare. Hannibal bites his lip at the sudden breach, forcing down a keen when Will thrusts another in without letting him adjust. Will used to be relatively gentle with him before but ever since he turned Hannibal, he hasn't displayed even an iota of his earlier patience. Hannibal doesn't have the stomach for _sweet and slow_ either anymore, much preferring the rounds of hard, fast fucking.

He tries to grind against the intruding digits in an attempt to force them deeper and Will grins, less of a smile than a wild baring of teeth, and complies, thrusting them in and out of Hannibal rapidly, adding a third to the mix after a few thrusts. Hannibal throws his head back with a grunt, simultaneously pressing himself against the mattress and pushing into Will's seeking fingers. They brush his prostate, teasing the little nub and sending ecstasy curling through his veins. Will launches a relentless attack on that spot, rubbing and twisting until Hannibal is writhing on the bed, mouth parted in a near continuous stream of obscene noises.

He groans when Will withdraws them, the hollowness startling and unpleasant, and he tries to turn over in order to raise himself on to his hands and knees. But Will stops him with a hand on his shoulder, keeping him as he is.

"Like this," Will breathes, gazing at Hannibal as if riveted, "I want to see your face."

Despite the heat flaring in him at the hushed admission, Hannibal laughs low in his throat and says, "You always want that, it seems."

Will responds by slicking his cock with a half empty bottle of lube from the nightstand and looming over Hannibal, the head nudging his entrance. He pushes inside inch by tormenting inch, drawing shallow pants from them both. He doesn't stop until he's bottomed out, their bodies joined close. Hannibal draws Will down with a hand on the back of his neck to rest their foreheads together, simply enjoying the sensation of being filled.

"If only you could see yourself like this," Will says, voice taking on a hushed, almost frantic tenor. "Stripped of your beloved human veil. You're like wildfire, savage and breathtaking."

A full body shudder sweeps through Hannibal at the words and his cock stirs in renewed interest.

Will starts to move with a throaty groan, small little thrusts that build and build until he's pushing into Hannibal in slow but deep strokes, their lips meeting intermittently in chaste brushes. Hannibal cups his mate's face with both hands, running his thumbs along the faint stubble on his chin, tracing the fine curve of his cheeks and marveling without shame at his sheer perfection.

The angle changes ever so slightly and Hannibal arches off the bed as the thrusts make most use of his prostate. His erection returns fully as the pleasure spreads, trapped been their bodies and rubbing against Will with each sinewy undulation of his hips. Will grins, half-closed eyes shining, and presses his face to Hannibal's shoulder. Hannibal keeps one arm on Will and reaches down with the other to fist his shaft, stroking lazily in counterpoint to Will's speeding pace.

Will comes with a harsh cry, body trembling as he empties inside Hannibal and the sensation triggers his own release, his cock jerking without much to give. Hannibal rides it out with his face buried in Will's hair, muffled whines escaping him.

Through the haze of bliss, he feels Will pulling out and dropping to the mattress, curling up against Hannibal's side. He turns, prying his eyes open to stare at Will who returns the gaze with a soft smile. He threads a hand through Will's curls, running his nails over his scalp and is amused when Will leans into the touch with a noise that is very much a purr.

Will catches Hannibal's hand to brush his lips against the palm before throwing himself on top of him, sprawling contentedly across his chest. Hannibal happily angles his head back for better access when Will nuzzles against him, scenting him with deep, audible breaths. It's a strangely animalistic habit Will seems fond of. Hannibal finds it endearing.

"Your scent is changing," Will mumbles thickly after he's had his fill. "No longer like prey."

"What do I smell like now?" Hannibal asks, genuinely curious. Though he is aware of the stark distinction between the scents of a human and vampire (basically, the former smells overwhelmingly like food), the fact remains that Will is the only vampire he knows. Hannibal himself doesn't count since one can't properly catch one's own true scent, according to Will.

Will runs the tip of his nose along the base of Hannibal's throat, breathing in yet again and humming delightedly.

"Lightening and night rain. Darkness and death. _Me_." Will murmurs the words with naked veneration and the last word is uttered as a trembling sigh, a sweet verbal caress.

And Hannibal laughs, hushed and affectionate, and holds Will a little tighter.

"You sound fairly pleased about that, my dear William."

"Oh, I am. When you were human, you smelled heavenly - like a veritable banquet. And the masochist in me misses that. But this- this is a million times better. Now, you smell like you're mine. My mate."

He can understand Will's satisfaction. Every whiff of Will that Hannibal takes is also saturated with his own essence, subtle but undeniably there as a core component. And it never fails to fill him with a combined sense of possession and adoration.

"I am yours," Hannibal agrees, his smile clear in his words, "As you are mine."

He can feel Will's mouth curving into a wide grin that imprints itself on Hannibal's skin.

"Always."

   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is the official end. I have a third part to this series planned for timestamps in Hannibal and Will’s life. No clear idea when it’ll be out though.

**Author's Note:**

> *hides*  
> *peeks out*  
> I have no idea how this happened. None.  
> 
> If there’s anything you want to see in this verse, tell me in the comments/message me on my [tumblr](http://silverangelfeathers.tumblr.com) and I’ll try to give it a go. 
> 
> _Kudos are love. Comments are true love._ Feel free to point out any and all errors.


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